A Feather and a Promise
by Harpy101
Summary: This was inspired by a prompt, sent to me by my favorite Banna fanfic writer, JamesLuvr. The prompt comes from a different site, but I wanted to post it here: John and Anna go on holiday and Anna is mistaken for his mistress. John talks a LOT in this one. Brendan's voice enchants me so that's probably why I tend to give John monologues. These are not my characters.


Anna drew deep on the sea air. It was so rich and fragrant she almost wanted to bite into it. She turned, looking up at the looming cliffs of Scarborough and the castle ruins, then at the women with parasols and the men in their straw hats negotiating the ocean breezes as they strolled the Spa Promenade; she stumbled a little as she turned round again to look below at the white-capped waves crashing in. She had read about the history of this place and couldn't wait to see more. But finest of all, she was away with her husband for three days. She giggled, feeling an intense giddiness. It was as romantic as could be. A holiday!

"Can we visit the castle tomorrow? And the Rotunda? And Anne Brontë's grave?" said Anna as they entered the lobby of the hotel.

"Of course," said John as the gangling bell boy set their bags by the registry, his bony wrists stretching from the embroidered cuffs of his uniform. The lobby bustled with travelers and staff. Anna filled her eyes with the tall ceilings, the great, sparkling windows over the beach and the rushing people.

Several staff bustled behind the desk; Anna easily spotted a new worker who seemed confused, but who carried herself with a proud strut. She glanced down at their luggage, at John, then gave Anna a long, up-and-down examination as she curled her lip.

"You wear it well, I must say," she said to Anna, speaking at full volume to be heard over the noise of the lobby, "But this is not that kind of establishment, _Miss,_"

John's eyes went cold. He put a hand on the counter, leaning over.

"You had best check your records," he said.

Another woman, clearly a manager, sensed the tension and rushed to the scene.

"May I help you sir?"

"Bates," said John, "John and Anna,"

The less experienced woman gaped at the luggage and then at the record book.

"Of course," said the manager, looking at John. "Sir, may I ask if there is a problem?"

"I'm afraid this woman was quite rude to my wife,"

"Erma?"

"I-but-the luggage tag says-"

"Oh," said Anna. The last time she had traveled was to Scotland with the family; the detail of her married status on the tags didn't seem to matter at the time (they wouldn't be using their own names in Scotland anyway, and the family still called her Anna) and she had forgotten to change them in the rush to finish up at Downton and to pack for the train. "I'm afraid she was mislead by the old luggage tags,"

"Erma, go wait for me in the back room now. Mr. Bates, I am so sorry for any offense. She will be dismissed immediately,"

"Would that be best?" said John, "How will she learn if not given the chance to?" He smiled now. "There's no harm done,"

"Yes, no harm done," said Anna.

The manager was scribbling on a piece of paper. She handed it to John. "I've placed you in a room with a better ocean view," she handed him another, "And please, enjoy breakfast at the hotel with our compliments. We are sincerely sorry for any offense,"

"Thank you," John inclined his head in his most gracious manner.

"It wasn't such a grave insult," said Anna, once the bellboy had left their room, "That I could be your mistress,"

"But it was," John was taking off his traveling coat.

"How so?" Anna stood looking out the window at the endless grey sea.

"First of all, it's impossible from the way you look,"

"Why?" Anna was only a tiny bit hurt. She turned to look at him. "I couldn't be-"

"You are healthy, elegant, and full of spark," said John. He stopped unpacking to pin her eyes with his. "It's clear you are not being compromised,"

"From what I've heard, not all of them compromise. Some of them in America have gone on to become important figures and business women,"

"This is not America. Nor France. And the ones who succeed at it tend to be women of ruthless and unkind character. I wouldn't want you in a room with such people," he opened the small wardrobe.

"I've been in a room with far worse," she reminded him, "You can't protect me from everything,"

"A mistress, Anna, is a private prostitute,"

"But if a woman wants-"

He turned to speak to her directly. "His Lordship and I see them coming and going occasionally at the club in London. Hollow creatures. Loaded down in finery and empty under it all, living from one lie to the next,"

"But not all, surely,"

"Men don't leave their wives for their mistresses. But the mistresses tell themselves it will happen. They remind me of that sad story of the Little Match Girl,"

"Oh," said Anna, "Yes, it's a very sad story. But how do they-"

"Living on false hope, lighting her matches one by one in the snow, each giving only a moment's dream of warmth and home. But the mistresses never go home with the men. Even if they are kept, they are kept separate. A dog is treated more like family than a mistress,"

"But times are changing," said Anna, "And these things might also change one day,"

"Men don't change," said John, "They will take advantage where they can find it," he smiled, "Your imagination has been stirred, is all," He took a seat on a small couch, setting his cane aside, and held out an arm for her.

Anna shrugged. "Yes, it has. And here we are, in Scarborough. I can't wait to see the castle and the Rotunda but it's an exciting place for all kinds of sights," she walked slowly toward him. "And if you recall, I offered to be your mistress once,"

"You didn't know what you were offering," he pulled her onto his lap.

She leaned back to frown at him. "Did I not?"

"No. You wanted us to be together because you thought it meant we would be free to love each other. Not just have each other, but love each other," his arms closed around her hips.

"Well, of course,"

"But how could I be free to love you when I couldn't give you everything that love requires?"

"Love doesn't-"

"'_Alter when it alteration finds,_'" he quoted, anticipating her. They both enjoyed Shakespeare's sonnets. "But to properly love someone means more than having them, more than cherishing them. It means making a promise and keeping it. Women are so unfairly marked," his eyes searched hers, and she knew he needed her to hear what he was saying; the passionate orator was emerging after long hours of dignified silence on the train. "Once a mistress, you would have been branded for good. And who knows what that could have cost you, if I were to be unable to look after you. It was unthinkable to reduce such a magnificent person, no matter how I wanted you,"

"The things you say," sighed Anna, sliding her arms around his neck.

"Let's take a stroll," said John, rocking her, "Would you like to see the shops? There is a book I'd like to buy you, I think we may find it here," he kissed the tip of her nose.

Anna enjoyed the festive feel of Scarborough, the pleasure boats and fishing boats crisscrossing over the waves, the rich smells of cooking food mixed with the sudden gusts of ocean air, the people babbling to each other as if they were at a fair and the seagulls screaming in the distance. The shops were quite a different variety from the shops in London. They stocked a more frivolous type of goods, but that suited her mood. In a dress shop packed with lovely notions Anna looked at a great selection of mother of pearl buttons that seemed affordable; she felt a light tickle on her neck and looked back to see John with a large ostrich feather. She flushed and stepped away.

Anna had loved playing games with her brothers and sisters growing up, but tickle games had always disturbed her, made her feel breathless and vulnerable. She had never known why and she tried to hide her embarrassment about it. John was looking at her with curiosity and some amusement.

"What is it?"

"Nothing,"

"It's certainly something. I never known you to have an aversion to feathers,"

"I don't,"

"And this one is very pretty,"

He moved to stroke it under her chin and Anna walked quickly away, out into the street to get some air. John followed soon after.

'You are bright pink," he said, smiling.

"Fine," said Anna, breathless, "Can we find some lunch now?"

"But what's wrong?"

"Nothing,"

"Don't you like to be ti-"

Anna took a breath and turned to him sharply. "I'm hungry," she snapped.

His eyebrows went up. He smiled and offered her his arm.

* * *

"Most of the art is on the dust jacket," John was turning a volume in his hand, his voice quiet in the dim hush of the book store, "And quite the drawings, too,"

"I like that new style," said Anna.

"Why don't you keep looking? I'll be right back,"

"Where are you going?" she laughed. He shot a smile over his shoulder.

Anna landed on a poem by D.H. Lawrence; she liked his work. _"Love and Cruelty; Death on The Farm"_ she read softly, and lost herself in the poem. She was quite on edge by the time she arrived at the lines,

_"And down his mouth comes to my mouth, and down_

_His dark bright eyes descend like a fiery hood_

_Upon my mind: his mouth meets mine-_"

"Is that a good one?"

Anna jumped with a small gasp.

John laughed. "If I buy you this book will you read to me tonight?"

"I love reading to you," she said.

"Yes," he lowered his voice, "But if you were my mistress, then this would be a business deal. I buy you a book, you perform a service,"

"That doesn't sound very romantic,"

"I should hope not," he arched his eyebrows at her; he moved a wrapped parcel from under his arm and took the book from her hand.

Anna glared at him affectionately. "Your message got through,"

"Did it?" he was paying for the book. He glanced behind her and his eyes sharpened. He nodded once, to point. Anna turned and saw a gentleman accompanied by a woman wearing an astonishing dress; it was very tight to her body, with bold patterns and colorful jewelry. The gentleman was doting on her as she breezed through the stacks. Anna looked back at John and giggled.

"She doesn't look like a hollow, tragic creature,"

"Not at the moment," said John, "But when he's back at home with his wife, she will be,"

"All right," said Anna, "But I'm happy to read for you, no matter what deal we strike,"

"You're sure, then?"

Anna was taken by a sudden inspiration, one that seemed absolutely sinful.

"Why don't we," she whispered, "Why don't we go back to the room for a nap?"

"Right in the middle of the day?" he pretended shock, "Like little children?"

Anna laughed under her breath. "Not like children. Let's complete this business transaction,"

He tilted his head, in a gesture that Anna should have spotted. It was a gesture he used to warn younger staff that he would let them hang by their own ropes.

* * *

Undressing for bed in the middle of the day felt quite scandalous to Anna. She kept giggling under her breath. John slid into bed behind her, pulling her back on his chest with an arm behind her shoulders; he wrapped that arm around her waist and hooked one of his long legs over one of hers, and settled in. Anna sighed and opened the book.

"It's a beautiful book. Thank you,"

"It is. But if you were my mistress that would not be a gift, not exactly. I would expect compensation,"

"What if I wanted to give you compensation?" She smiled, snuggling against him.

"Without knowing what my idea of what that is? You're my wife, we are partners and we plan things together. Secrets poison a marriage, " he wrapped himself more tightly around her, "But as a mistress, you forfeit the right to be considered,"

"But-"

She heard a the crackling sound of paper, and then saw it dangling over her: the ostrich feather.

Anna tried to scramble away, but he had her pinned.

"Read to me," he said.

"John-" He was twirling the quill in his fingers, making the feather dance in the air an inch away from her belly. Anna's heart began to pound. "John, don't,"

"I've bought you a lovely book. Now I want you to read to me,"

"John!"

"Did you want to find out what it is to be a mistress? Or not?"

Anna's voice trembled, "That is not fair, I-"

"Wait, stop," he said. Anna held her breath. "Watch," He was dangling the feather lower, playing it in the air over various parts of her body. He lowered it slowly, giving a languid sweep of it from her lower belly up. Anna took in a sharp breath and twisted in his arms, her skin shaking under the feather, tightening as goosebumps gathered, but soon she realized that it was very soft and light and relaxed a bit; this wasn't unbearable. After a moment it was quite nice; he was running it up and down her legs, her chest, her throat. She resumed the poem, falling into the luxury of it. He continued, and the sensations began to build; the texture of the feather began to stir a kind of distant storm in her nerves.

The ostrich feather went away and Anna relaxed into reading the poem, until she arched her back and gasped under a new feather, a narrower, stiffer one that swept along the crease of her hip and up over her chest. He made circles on her chest, exactly where she was hoping he wouldn't-or would-or-

"Read to me,"

Anna had dropped the book. "I can't!"

"It's your part of the bargain," he made tiny, exacting strokes and Anna keened as the rush of her own response buried her mind; it was an almost vicious pleasure that drove her blind and deaf for what seemed like an hour while he coaxed and teased with the tip of the feather. When it finally abated Anna was panting in dry little sobs.

"Pick up the book," his voice was maddeningly playful, as if he were doing nothing to her.

Anna reached for the book, but the feather circled lower. She thrashed under him, unable to calm herself. Now it was unbearable.

"John please, please-"

"What do you want?"

He circled it again, and Anna whined desperately, rolling her head, her toes curled so tightly that her feet were cramping, her skin beginning to release a light perspiration, like mist.

"Do you want me to stop torturing you and make love to you?"

"YES!"

"But it would be up to me," he said. The feather went away and Anna heaved in relief for a moment, but now he clutched a full bouquet of various feathers, twisting his wrist thoughtfully so they trembled and spun. "And if I chose to make a careful study of the effect of each of these on you, I could make you stay here all night while I experimented. And then took my pleasure only," Anna gave a shuddering moan, "And then sent you out alone in the cold morning on the street, hollow-eyed, desperate, unfulfilled, not knowing if you were even loved,"

"You would never do that!" She nearly shouted it.

He tossed the feathers aside, pulling her under him, locking his eyes on hers. "And nothing like that will ever happen to you. You will always know that I love you. You will always know this was only a game between us, and that I put your wishes before anything. I put you before anything and anyone. You will never be brought low," his fingers glided between hers; he slipped her wedding ring up and down on her finger, "No matter what happens, you know how I feel. You are honored, and you always will be. You would accept nothing less, ever again,"

"Ever again?"

He was kissing her shoulder now, and moving down. "You will outlive me. You're young, Anna. But for the rest of your life-"

"Don't talk this way!"

"I need to know that you will be cared for and respected. And you will be,"

Tears began to seep down her cheeks. "Kiss me," she said. He lifted himself and looked at her, slowly bringing his mouth to hers. She sniffed wetly; he kissed her nose, her cheeks, then her mouth again. "Hold me," she said, and he rolled on his side as he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her in, resting his cheek on hers.

"Don't talk about leaving me, ever,"

"I would never wish to,"

"Then, don't,"

He hesitated, then she heard the smile in his voice, "Yes, my love,"

After a time, she said, "Were you trying to make that demonstration completely awful?"

"Not completely, no,"

"Well..." she said, "It wasn't...completely,"

"Silly of me," he said, "Feathers. I'll leave them for the staff. They can make a nice hat or two,"

"Husband," said Anna sternly, "You will do no such thing,"


End file.
